


Outfoxed

by sexuallydisoriented (Cheezalot)



Series: Compromising Positions [2]
Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-01
Updated: 2015-02-01
Packaged: 2018-03-10 01:02:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3270956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cheezalot/pseuds/sexuallydisoriented
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Based on this post (http://imaginingcriminalminds.tumblr.com/post/107894375011)</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Based on this post (http://imaginingcriminalminds.tumblr.com/post/107894375011)

This case was an arduous one. They had just finished up a garden-variety child abduction case in Missouri and were on the jet back to Quantico when Hotch got a message summoning everyone to Raleigh, North Carolina on a new, apparently very urgent, case. Most of the team had fallen asleep, despite the knowledge that in less than two hours they would be back on the ground, back to work.

Too soon, Hotch was making his way around the jet to wake everyone up and put on a fresh pot of coffee. “We’re going down in 30 minutes. Do what you need to do.”

* * *

"Okay, we know he’s been hunting in this," Reid drew a circle over a small section of the map, "general area, so it’s very likely his base of operations is somewhere in here."

Raleigh’s police chief spoke up. “There’s nothing in there that would provide enough space for what he does, though. It’s mostly the outskirts of the city, and the little that isn’t doesn’t have any buildings.”

"Right, so there’s probably a secondary location. Are there any abandoned or condemned buildings within…30 miles of this circle? Any further than that and he’d risk being seen transporting the victims." Hotch tugged at his tie to loosen it.

"No. Nothing that close."

Everyone slumped back in their chairs. “Damn. I thought we had something.” Morgan trudged off to get coffee for the rest of the team; they were going to be there a while.

* * *

On the third day, everyone trickled in with dead eyes. Raleigh officers were disgruntled because this was a rarity for them; the state’s capital didn’t see a lot of serial murderes, let alone one who was as aggressive and malicious towards his victims. The team was wrung out from this being their second consecutive case with no downtime — JJ and Hotch were starting to seriously miss their kids, and everyone else was starting to seriously miss their beds.

One of the women working the front desk at the station came bustling back to the conference room that was the home base for the investigation. “I have an envelope for  _SSA D. Morgan,_  is he in yet?”

Morgan rose from his seat and accepted the envelope. “Thanks. Did you see who left it?” 

"Nope," she shrugged. "It was on my desk when I got here. I can check it for prints if you want, but it passed all our other precautions, so it’s not dangerous."

"That’s fine, thank you." Derek dismissed her as he carefully peeled the envelope open and inspected the letter within.

"Hotch?"

"Yeah?"

"Call Garcia. Something’s wrong."

* * *

_Beep._

"Morning, sir! What do you need?" The phone in her den had just began to ring as Garcia settled down comfortably with a cup of coffee and a warm muffin.

"I’m sending you a picture of a letter we just received at the Raleigh station. We don’t know what the bottom half means, but there’s a link printed on the top I need you to look into."

"Got it! Stay on the line for just one second, my liege, this looks pretty harmless…oh my god."

"Garcia?"

"Oh, my god, sir, get to a computer right now, you need to see this." Breakfast forgotten, Garcia began typing furiously and whirring between screens. "Before you ask, yes, I’m trying to trace it, but it looks like it isn’t live, just a pre-recorded video that was uploaded to this website. It—it was anonymized, so it’s going to take me a while."

_Beep._

"Emily, JJ, come here." Morgan’s voice was tight as he waved the girls over as they stepped off the elevator.

"What’s wrong?" JJ dropped her bag by the chief’s desk as she hurried over.

"We just got this about 10 minutes ago." Morgan handed them the letter. "The lines don’t make any sense, but this is what the link led us to."

They joined the huddle around the computer screen. “Wait, is that—”

"Yeah." Morgan sighed. "He has Reid."

* * *

 

Everyone was frozen around the monitor until Hotch began barking orders. “Morgan, call in SWAT and all the local officers you can find and get them ready to move at a moment’s notice. Let them know he’s got one of us. JJ, I want you and Garcia to go over every bit of that clip. Look for anything that could tell us where he’s holding Reid. Prentiss, you and I are going to work on the other half of this letter. The lines have to mean something, and we need to figure out what.  Dismissed.”

As if Hotch had flipped a switch, everyone snapped out of their various states of shock and hurried of to their tasks. 

"Prentiss, have you ever seen [anything like this?](http://s1379.photobucket.com/user/illustratedwoman007/media/Sketch154155352_zps8c31633e.png.html?o=0)”

"No I haven’t." She fiddled with the paper, rotating it every which way. "Wait, what’s this on the back?"

"It’s a little smudged…"

"What comes next."

"What?"

"That’s what it says. ‘What comes next?’"

"What does that mean?"

"I don’t know," Hotch sighed.

Emily stared at the paper for a few seconds. “We need Spencer,” she half-joked.

Hotch paused. “You’re right.” He clicked a few buttons on his phone to call Garcia.

"Wait, what?" Prentiss didn’t actually mean anything with that comment.

"Garcia, I need you to pull up FBI personnel records. Are intelligence scores listed?"

"Yes, sir, they are." Garcia’s tone was short but her underlying worry was still evident.

"Get me a list of everyone working for the Bureau with an IQ above 150."

"Okay…" soft clicking came through the phone. "One name, sir. Already sending her file to your tablets."

Emily pulled up the file, inspecting the picture and various documents that came with it. “Alright. Agent (Y/N) from Counterterrorism. Been with the Bureau for eight years and worked her way to CT through Counterintelligence.”

"Alright. Get her on a plane. Now."


	2. Chapter 2

If something interesting didn’t happen soon, you were going to start banging your head against the wall of your cubicle. 

_Go work in Counterterrorism, they said. Your experiences will be useful, they said._

_Yeah right._

You’d been on desk duty for what, three weeks now? Patrolling internet watchlists was an important job, you were sure, but that didn’t make it any less boring.

Not a moment too soon, you heard your chief’s tell-tale shoe clicks approaching. You whirled around in your chair just as she approached, fixing her with an inquisitive stare.

"BAU needs you in North Carolina. Get down to the airstrip. You’ve got 15 minutes."

"What do they need with me?" Your interest was piqued. You’d heard of the BAU, but the department never sounded like something you would be interested in. Besides, they already had their own genius.

"One of their agents has been abducted and they think you’re the only one intelligent enough to help get him back. Get going." She pointed towards the door forcefully before turning on an undoubtedly expensive heel and stalking back the way she’d come. 

_Huh._

_Alright._

You quickly shut your computer down with a few clicks and grabbed your bag from under your desk. You had work to do.

* * *

Perfunctorily, you thanked the Raleigh cop who insisted on escorting you from the airport to the police station. He’d yammered on about “protecting the assets that the government graciously shared with us blah blah blah,” but to be completely honest, you stopped listening after the first five minutes. 

"Alrighty, who’s missing, and why do you need me?" you called out as you approached the small conference room in the back of the floor. Based on their tired expressions, disheveled clothes, and discarded Chinese containers, you were able to guess with relative certainty that they were the government agents in distress.

They all looked up, expressions ranging from confused to perturbed. A tall man in a slightly rumpled suit approached you, expression unreadable. “I’m SSA Hotchner, you must be Agent Y/N. Come with me, please.”

You continued your path to the conference room after acknowledging Agent Hotchner. Quickly, you scanned the boards and files spread across the room before your gaze landed on a laptop computer, screen blank. You wiggled the mouse to wake the computer up, and it flashed awake to display a two-minute video of a tall, lanky individual hanging from the ceiling of a location you couldn’t identify. “I assume this is who we’re missing?”

Hotchner nodded. “Dr. Spencer Reid. He’s been missing for almost 13 hours—”

"12 hours, 47 minutes. I was briefed on the plane." You poked through the loose papers on the table. "I was told there was a letter from the abductor. Where is it?"

"Right here." Agent Morgan—you recognized him from the BAU personnel files you received on the plane—handed you a piece of standard size paper with clear, black printing on it. You studied the lines and the messages closely, but nothing came to you instantaneously. 

"Well?" A short blonde woman—Agent Jareau—piped up from across the table where she’d been trying to keep herself from pacing.

You looked up at her briefly before turning your attention back to the strange lines. “Nothing right off the bat. Give me time and I’ll get you something.” Thankfully, the agents backed off after that, but you could tell they still weren’t too warm to you. You were okay with that; people rarely were unless you chose to be someone that they could be warm to.

* * *

An hour later, you shot up from your seat against the wall. “Call everyone back. I know what this says.”

An hour and five minutes later, you had the BAU (minus one) anxiously crowded around the table in the conference room. “Your bad guy gave us the name of where he’s holding Dr. Reid, but he wrote it in a way that’s impossible to read unless you know what he did.” You drew the puzzle on one of the white boards in black and began filling it in with blue. “MORDECAI. There’s a historical house around here called the Mordecai House, right? That’s where you’ll find Reid.”

The team collectively sighed in relief while simultaneously tensing up and gathering themselves for an assault. Agent Morgan clapped you on the shoulder on his way out of the room. “Thanks, girl. We’ll call you when we find him.”

_IF you find him. Can’t guarantee I’m right._ Nevertheless, you nodded.

* * *

An hour had passed and you still hadn’t heard anything from anyone that went out to the field. You weren’t positive about FBI field protocol, but you figured that even with the time that it took to get there, set up a perimeter, plan the assault, and then carry out the assault, somebody should have told somebody something by now. Against your better judgement, the whole thing was making you nervous. Rather than pace, your usual method of displaying anxiety, you’d taken to picking at the label on your paper tea cup. 

Thirteen minutes later, your phone rang, making you jump. You slid the touch screen to answer. “Yes?”

"Y/N? It’s Morgan." He sounded relaxed, and probably closer to normal for him. "We found him. I’m with him right now, and he’s fine."

"Great. Glad I could help." Despite your best efforts, you couldn’t keep relief out of your own voice.

"He wants to meet you, girl. You gonna hang around until we get back?"

Your eyebrows shot up into your hairline. “I guess? Sure. I’ll be here.”

There was a brief pause, and then Morgan laughed, presumably at something Reid had said. “Great. We’ll be back once the EMT’s clear him. About 45 minutes. Don’t get skittish now, girl, we won’t be long.”

You smiled despite yourself and hung up without responding. To kill time, you started straightening the files that were haphazardly strewn across the table. It was a compulsion you picked up in Counterintelligence; one of your colleagues had misplaced a file one time and it had gotten leaked to the wrong people and an international incident almost blew up in your faces. So, you decided it was better to be compulsively neat than accidentally start the third world war. 

Sooner than you expected, the elevator was dinging open to allow a pack of cheery FBI agents into the room. Morgan had a supportive arm wrapped around Reid’s shoulders, who looked incredibly exhausted but was at least on his feet. You approached them tentatively.

Morgan waved you over, smiling widely. “Hey! This is the cute little genius who helped us save your ass, Reid. Agent Y/N of Counterterrorism, meet Dr. Spencer Reid. Genius, meet genius.”

Reid smiled tiredly and extended a pale hand. “Nice to meet you.” You nodded awkwardly. “Thanks for helping them out, too, I really appreciate it,” he laughed. 

"Of course. You know, it was a good challenge. Fun puzzle."

Reid nodded. “Do you mind if I take a look at what he sent you guys? I’m—I’m curious what led you to the Mordecai House.”

"Sure, yeah, I’ll walk you through it," you jabbed. 

"Oh, so you don’t think I’d have been able to find you if our positions had been reversed?"

"Well, based on your IQ score, I bet you probably could, but other than that I don’t know you so I wouldn’t dare guess."

Behind you, Morgan and Hotch were laughing as quietly as they could manage. 

"Genius meet genius, huh?"

"Yeah. We done good, Hotch. We got him back, and we got him a new friend in the process."

"Mm," Hotch hummed in agreement. "Maybe I’ll look into having her consult on a few cases now and again. For his sake."

Derek laughed. “Sure. For his sake.”


End file.
